Firsts
by WooperPooper
Summary: Ellis and the crew's unsuccessful escape returns them to the bridge and they run into Zoey's group who has returned as well. With low food supply, swarms of infected, and limited time, Ellis feels he must confess his growing love to Zoey. Somehow.
1. The Return

Hey guys! I appreciate you clicking and reading this. This story will be Zoey/Ellis centric.

9/23/11 update: I combined two chapters into this one so it would flow better. Also the third chapter is gone (I was really unpleased with it sorry! I promise it won't happen again). Just a heads up for my older readers. Either way.

Enjoy!

I do not own any of Valve/Left 4 Dead series.

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><p><em>Firsts<em>

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><p>Never did any of the four survivors think they would end up back near their starting point. Not the conman, not the high school worker, not the television news station worker, and not even the mechanic.<p>

Even so, the mechanic secretly loved where they had to return to. He wouldn't utter a word of such a thing after all the group had been through together though. Inside, he too felt a heavy tugging when all their tremendous efforts went to waste by a simple helicopter crash near where their long trek began. It was as if someone had reset a game he put many days' hours on, only to have all of it erased and to restart from the beginning.

Ellis sighed at this relation; he had gone through a similar predicament before with his best buddy Keith. He refrained from reminding himself of the painful memory, and successfully suppressed the past event. Even though the mechanic subconsciously believed in all memories should be remembered, good or not, that particular one involving a game system and spilt soda was one better off being forgotten.

The current situation at hand, however, was most definitely one Ellis would remember for the rest of his life – assuming his future life would not take place in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. He hoped conditions would improve, everyone would collaborate in rebuilding their lives, and return to a world where everyone would appreciate their life more. It was a great alternative rather than telling stories of Keith to his fellow survivors who often refused the time was appropriate to be talking of such things. There never seemed to be time for a Keith story, but when Ellis could squeeze them in, he did so with an immense amount of elation and satisfaction. Reminiscing about the past and describing his memories to the group was, simply put it, fun, even if Nick flat-out rejected it.

Ellis glanced at the others who were for the most part having staring contests with various parts of an empty road. Nick peered into the far distance, looking almost hopeful for anything to get them out of where they ended up. Rochelle continuously took great interest in her feet and how they could kick occasional rocks like soccer. Coach scanned stores on the sides of the street they were trudging along on perhaps for once not caring if he found a chocolate bar, unless it would help them escape the wretched feeling of what mimicked the degree of failure.

The hick sighed to himself. They had been walking in an uncomfortable silence for an hour or so. There wasn't even one sign of infected to serve as a distraction or to rile anyone up, and while the absence of infected usually would have been appreciated, the survivors' minds were too weighted by their dread to express such celebratory feeling. They were drenched in what happened to them not so long ago.

All four of the survivors were more than ecstatic as soon as they boarded the helicopter from the explosive bridge. They all cheered and hugged (except for Nick, insisting he wanted to keep his suit clean) as the copter took off into the sky, thinking they were finally home-free from the weeks of killing off infected in hopes of survival. None of them knew how long they had been flying for; Rochelle grew suspicious of a sudden silence. She somehow managed to find her way to the cockpit of the helicopter, only for Ellis to hear her scream and shout. Before they knew it, the pilot was missing, Coach was trying to steer the copter, Nick was yelling about the sudden oncoming of ocean, and Ellis was just whispering "mercy us" as the crew fell into despair. They didn't know how they lived, maybe the terrain of wherever they landed helped somehow, but the moment they came into full recognition of their site of landing, the feeling of dread overcame the four survivors.

They were back at the passing.

In the far distance the group could see the artificial glow of tattoo parlors and jazz clubs, even vegetation from the park was visible at some point. Ellis spied a manhole in the ground, but didn't dare to crack a joke about turds on Nick. He couldn't bring himself to do so. With all the familiar sights and smells, the group, with heavy shoulders, trudged along the all-so familiar streets.

And Ellis being Ellis, even with the constant reminder that all their efforts had been just to end up where they started, could not help but think of everything that could battle the present bad. He thought about how they could replenish their supplies in the town, how they could try a different route or hang around for sake of "relaxing." Maybe the group could hang around in the bar. Nick could make some drinks, Coach could play tunes on the jukebox, and Rochelle could howl with laughter at Ellis's stories.

Once the feeling of despair had sunken in and was over, Ellis was determined for everyone to revitalize and be strong once again. He knew with everything that they had been through they could live through this with the same vitality as everything else. It was just a matter of time until they came to this conclusion as well.

And it was only a matter of time until they would reach the bridge where three other survivors were waiting for them, and one in particular always had been Ellis's reason for standing strong even when he was near death. This survivor was an important reason to bear through the waves and tsunamis of horror and blood. He fought for them in hopes of seeing his dream of returning to a world where the calm would return and where people could live without fear of seeing their loved ones fall victim to turning into mindless infected beings. He wanted to return to a world that was just as naturally lighthearted as him at time (as the others pointes out). And that reason was what lifted all the weights of returning to a starting part of their group's long exhausting journey for Ellis:

Zoey.

Ellis continued to linger a few feet behind the group still intimidated by the overwhelming silence. No one said had said a word for hours on end. The mechanic parted his lips in hopes of breaking the silence, but every attempt at wording a sentence eventually turned into a cough or yawn. Heck, he even let out a sneeze without being followed by a "bless you" (Coach almost always responded, this time being an exception). All he wanted was the group to talk amongst themselves again, but that was quite a lot to ask for since their crash. He needed an excuse to initiate conversation, anything, even Nick's relentless criticism that he found amusement at would suffice.

Ellis's line of vision wandered left. His eyes quickly widened at a sudden figure squeezing itself between alley walls struggling to reach the group of survivors.

It was almost as if someone had granted his wish. Finally, a perfect reason to yell, Ellis thought. The hick inhaled, filling his lungs with air, and released it all out in one hasty breath.

"Tank!"

Everyone immediately raised their weapons and fired. Coach threw a bile at it, causing a horde to swarm on it. They continued to fire, two of them reloading at one time while the other two fired. It was a good system. Ellis ran to the parking upon seeing a witch and crowned it. Unfortunately, some infected startled him and he accidentally shot some cars.

Soon, the tank was dead.

Ellis never thought he'd be so thankful to encounter a Tank in his life even if it did set off a car alarm. Or two. Or three. Or four.

"Damnit Ellis, why the hell did you run into a parking lot?" Nick spat at the mechanic.

"Well I thought the Tank would be nice to 'em fancy sport cars Nick. They were pretty nice. Not as nice as the Jimmy Gibbs Jr. though. I do miss her…" Ellis stared off into the distance, reminiscing about his car, "Hey guys! If we go back to that carnival place with all 'em coasters and food, I bet we can get back the Jimmy Gibbs Jr.; unless 'em zombies took the car."

"Ellis, zombies don't have taste."

"Well Nick, you never know. unless you're are a zombie... are you?" Ells crinkled his nose in childish suspicion.

"Ellis sweetie, we have more important things to be focusing on, like what we're going to do now," Rochelle stated.

"I guess the Jimmy Gibb's Jr. is out of the question then."

"There were too many zombies on that highway. No way am I going back there!" Coach had a point, but Ellis couldn't help but feel bad for the car. She was a beauty after all.

"Let's just go to the closest safe room and decide from there. I don't want another Tank attacking us and attracting hordes," Nick glared behind them at the dozens of dead infected. The group tried to avoid the memory of the Tank that chased Ellis setting off four car alarms alarms simultaneously. Even to Ellis who loved a shooting spree, he and Rochelle had run out of ammo midst the battle granting them a harder survival situation. Fighting with their trusty axes could only last for so long.

"Let's see, the closest safe room is the one near that bridge. Y'know, where Nick had two turds on his jacket. Hey Nick, remember the time you had two turds on your jacket?"

"Shut up Ellis."

The survivors, except for Nick, laughed. Ellis was relieved the group was conversing again. It was a much more comfortable atmosphere as opposed to the almost stagnant one from earlier.

The journey through the sewer was a quick one. There were infected dispersed thanks to the car alarms from earlier, making the trek was much less stressful and easier on their ammo supply. The Tank and horde strike ate up most of their ammo; the last thing they needed were more hordes. Though Ellis was confident with his axe strapped across his back, he wasn't too sure how many zombies he could hold off without faltering to the thought of wishing he had a machine gun.

And before he knew it, they were all in the safe house.

"Hey now, do you all recall this room here?" Rochelle peeked out the safe room's door.

"What is it?" Nick looked over her shoulder.

"Oh boy! I hope it has some more food. I could sure go for some more grub. 'specially 'em canned peaches," Ellis ran out the door not bothering to check for infected. The door didn't budge with his pull.

"Aw man, the door's locked."

Nick scoffed, "Figures. We'll try and open it tomorrow. I'm sure we could all use some sleep after today."

Ellis whimpered at the idea of waiting. Perhaps the fresh air up the stairs nearby would ease the wait. If there were any infected, he could always run back down to the safe room.

The air was fresh and crisp against his face. Perhaps the night helped the air feel how it did. He breathed in light atmosphere, and slowly exhaled. This was as close as home he would probably be in the future. If they ever went back to Savannah, he would be sure to check around and see if Ma was alright. Those Sunday dinners were the best, and he craved her reassuring voice again. Heck, even the smell of his old home would be great.

The mechanic looked around at the vacant bridge area. No Zoey. He couldn't help but wonder if they left somewhere; where else would they stay if the closest safe house nearby wasn't sheltering them?

Close to the bridge and Ellis came across another supply closet. Upon opening it, he found several gears and other gadgets.

"These boat parts…? Hm," the mechanic shrugged, and put his findings in a nearby box labeled "QUARANTINE." Maybe he'd place the label on Coach's behind while the husky man was sleeping. Once he had been subjected to being locked in a safe house before when Coach ate beans. That was another memory that could have used some suppressing.

"Hurry up Ellis!" Coach called out and waved his arms from across the bridge. The mechanic hurried on over into the saferoom. Everyone was sitting around the room munching on various snacks strewn about the place.

"What the hell is that boy?" Coach pointed with a soda can at Ellis's box.

"Boat parts! I was gonna see if they could come in handy for anything else we'd find," Ellis shot him a grin and sat next to him, examining the metal contraptions.

"Boy, you are one crazy… boy. Now let's all get some sleep. Nick, you keep an eye on the doors."

"Sleep sounds mighty fine Coach. 'ey, did I tell you guys the one time me and Keith went camping in the woods? You see, Keith had never been campin' before an'…"

The night trailed on as the band of survivors listened to Ellis's story, and laughed with him. Even Nick let out a stocky laugh here and there. Everyone reminisced about the past, and thought about the future. Though what they thought in store for them would be tough times, all of them laughed and cheered at how far they had come, even if they were reset to the start. Despite hardships, they had gotten stronger. Ellis smiled at this realization. He wished a certain brunette was there by his side to enjoy life with them.

Coach pinched his nose at how smelly Nick was, who in return commented on dull Coach's head had gotten. Rochelle laughed and offered to shine it with Ellis's hat, but Nick quickly retorted she had better luck driving the Jimmy Gibb's Jr.. Ellis held his head tight, paranoid Rochelle would actually do such a thing, and then burst into laughter at Coach's discovery of a candy box. Unfortunately, there were no chocolate bars, and instead, the group all chipped in a peach from their canned food.

And with that, the feeling from the crash slowly faded away.

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><p><em>Thanks for reading! Please review!<em>


	2. The Other Return

Hey guys! Thanks for reading so far. I appreciate your reviews a lot. Like... a lot! I had fun with this chapter (mainly Zoey's rants on the boat).

I hope you like it! Again for the other readers I combined chapter two and three for this one. So just scroll a bit and you'll be able to find the newer chapter.

Please enjoy.

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><p>Zoey stared at the ocean beating against the boat. She, Francis, and Louis had been sailing for quite some time, however, whether they were sailing for hours or days remained unknown to her. Even if she counted how many times the sun set and rose, the sky's different shades parallel to the time of day all seemed to blur together. She didn't know how many sunsets or sunrises there were – hell, she didn't know if there were even any.<p>

On the other hand, one thing that wasn't confusing anymore for her was Bill's death. Her face slightly contorted at the thought. Since Bill's sacrifice, Zoey found complications in coming to accept the old veteran's death. After weeks of fighting off hordes of zombies, the man seemed unbeatable, unstoppable: invincible. The idea of him dying was an outrageous one, and the fact the idea manifested itself was even more incredulous.

Then again, Zoey had dealt with many situations she initially thought would only happen in her imagination. The whole apocalyptic setting was an absurd one, one she marveled over again and again during movie marathons in her father's basement. When confined in the space, the girl had watched so many zombie movies with a slight hope they would become a reality, perhaps to serve as an escape of some sort. She grew tired with the world, mainly her home life, and boy, how she regretted not taking advantage of it. Never did she picture herself killing her father, the one more lenient with her, or see herself joining three complete strangers that would become her new family in the pursuit of survival.

And now one of those former strangers was dead.

Zoey rested her hands on the boat's railing staring at the blobs of land ahead of them. They were most likely the islands Bill aimed to get to: Florida Keys. Francis and Louis had been discussing earlier what they would do once they got there. The two men thought scouting the island was the immediate priority, just in case of any infected. All of them hoped the island lacked any sort of diseased folk. Weeks of fighting them off were enough.

Louis's injured leg didn't ease a growing anxiety in Zoey either. The man wanted to take over her steering (she had been steering the whole time, Francis didn't know crap about navigation), but Zoey absolutely refused. If Louis stood on his leg, the limb wouldn't heal any faster. Damn witches.

The blob got slightly closer as they sailed nearer. They finally were closing in on the island, but…

What she thought was anxiety bubbled up even more. Zoey couldn't help but feel something was wrong, that they shouldn't be here, and that they should be somewhere else, but why? Why would she be tempted to turn around when what they had been fighting for was miles in front of them? She couldn't help but wonder herself.

The waves splashed against her face. It was cold and salty, much like the water they had to drink on the bridge once. Francis thought he was able to trick Bill into drinking salty water ("Like your piss old man!" Francis would add), but by mistake added salt to everyone's drink except for Bill's. How this mix up happened, nobody knew, except for Bill, and he wasn't there to reveal the answer.

Something clicked inside her: the bridge.

Zoey looked in the opposite direction of the islands. Her gut acted up again. This feeling was going to drive her crazy, unless… unless she could steer the boat back from whence they came. She just had to direct the boat back to the shore, no matter how much effort it took, however, the reason for doing so remained unknown to her. And just like that, her mind was set.

The idea was easier said than done. Considering where they were, how far they'd come, and how much energy the crew had exerted to reach their destination, Zoey didn't even enjoy the thought of trailing backwards. Logically, there should be no reason to go back; even Francis would be able to figure that one out. Francis would be the hardest to convince in terms of returning to the mainland especially how much he had been affected by Bill. She could count on persuading Louis to allow her to turn the boat around; that was a challenge in itself. But Francis?

It was obvious she wouldn't be able to get Francis on her side with gut logic – not like he had any to begin with – and so she had to resort to some other method. Zoey twiddled with her bang strands out of frustration. Now that she thought about it, convincing the two to return to the mainland because of a gut feeling was pretty improbable. The reason had a higher chance of clicking with Louis, though the percentage of that was still damn low. Louis trusted her instincts, more so than logic. Francis, however, trusted his own vested instincts, not Zoey's. Throughout the journey Zoey learned he went off the basics: they fought shit, killed shit, ran through shit, saw shit, and was boat-lengths way from escaping said shit (assuming the island was infected free). That would be her own counterargument if someone asked her to go back.

She needed a reason that would appeal to both conflicting trains of thought. What the hell would appeal to both of them? The reason had to be something with basic enough logic to appeal to Francis, but retain importance worth going back to the mainland for Louis. It wasn't as if she could tell them two separate things.

Zoey took out her gun and inspected it; she considered throwing the pistol into the ocean so the group would have to go back to the mainland as an excuse. That was a downright terrible reason though. The pistol was already broken.

Her head snapped up as if out of a trance. That was it.

The girl walked to the steering wheel and took a gander at it. While sailing on the ocean, the wheel had been unusually stubborn. If only she were a mechanic she would be able to convince Louis and Francis that there was something wrong with the boat (assuming there was something wrong with it). Having Ellis with her would help too. He'd definitely help her out judging from his small comments to and about her. The corner of her lips lifted at the brief thought.

"What're you doing Zoey? Is there something wrong with the wheel?" Louis appeared from the other side of the boat. She guessed he was done with his nap, and smiled even more at the opportunity. Wiping the grin off her face, she sat next to the wheel, now staring at Louis.

"I think we should go back."

"…what?"

"Louis, I think we should go back."

"Back? Back! Back to the mainland? Zoey, are you out of your mi-"

"Something's wrong with the boat," she blurted with all the honesty she could. There was something sketchy about the boat, but couldn't tell if it was because she wanted there to be or there was actually something wrong with it.

"We're almost to island, can't it wait? We can check there then check for supplies once we get there," Louis had excellent reasoning.

"What if there are no supplies Louis?" Only sound reason she could bring up. Using the wheel as support, Zoey stood up and uneasily looked at Louis. In some way she was worried if the boat was indeed malfunctioning.

"If there aren't any, we can always sail back if it's that big a concern to you. I don't know about you, but I don't think we'll need to be sailing back to the mainland anytime soon."

"Think about what you jut said Louis."

"What's that?"

"Key words 'anytime soon'", Zoey crossed her arms, "We don't know when we'll need to go back, as much as we don't like it. If we do, I would prefer if we turn around right now to get spare boat parts and tools. Let's assume there are no necessities on the island – food – and our supply runs short. What I've collected from sailing, this boat's old. I don't know if it's going to bite the dust from us not using it. And if it does, well then, we're screwed. This might be the last run it ever has."

Louis soaked in what Zoey had said. He sighed and muttered hesitatively, "Damn. I wish we knew more about boats."

"Louis."

He looked at her, "For peace of mind?"

"For survival. I don't want to risk anything at all."

Louis laughed a bit at her straightforward comment, "Alright then. Let's turn the boat around. This is going to take one hell of an explanation for Francis…"

Zoey walked in front of the wheel, her back facing Louis, and slowly turned the device, "We'll do all that it takes. I'll be sailing us back near the bridge. I remember a safe house and a supply room with boat parts and other necessities. Assuming no one took it."

"I don't know who would take boat parts in a time like these Zo,"

The brown haired shooter smiled, "I can only think of one person Louis."

Time passed, but Zoey couldn't keep track of the days.

Without a doubt, Zoey lost her internal clock somewhere among the fields flooded with infected. Fighting constantly on those battlegrounds decayed her inference of what time a clock would display. This diminished sense left the brunette with only being able to recognize four outstanding periods in a time frame of twenty-four hours: dawn, daytime, sunset, and nighttime; all of which were grouped into two separate groups. Day and dawn were "Less Dangerous" while sunset and nighttime were "More Dangerous." Needless to say, the latter was preferred, although for some reason her group of survivors seemed to only embark during the darker hours. They thought traveling at night would help infected notice them less, but there truly was no escaping them. She only hoped the brisk ocean night would let up soon.

The distant land was nearing, and damn, running around killing various formerly innocent people (though Zoey was sure there were exceptions to the "innocent" part) was not a thought the girl fancied ever while drifting on the sea.

She constantly tried to distract herself with the concept of time and count how many days passed on the ocean. The only day tallying she was successful with was counting half a day. She recalled it was bright at one point, then dark at another along with a nap. There was some actual sleep somewhere strewn in her boat schedule, but even the dreamlands were slowly blending in with the monotonous days themselves. But, there were the two exceptions.

Thank god for them. They were two recurring dreams reminding her she was getting some rest. One involved any memory with Bill, and the other… the other involved holding off infected with a certain southern accent yelling ecstatically up and down the streets. A young man would run with a shotgun shooting infected, exclaiming her name and smiling all while doing so. Did she actually see him flash a grin in the real battle and constantly smile throughout the day? She was damn sure. His personality shined brighter than the sun during these times drifting about the sea. This dream was the only occurrence that could ever give her comfort in anything; hell, she wondered if there was any more existing comfort for her in the world. Probably not. She couldn't rely on memories and dreams forever.

Damn, she almost forgot about the sun ahead of her. Its hesitant rays slithered through debris of that dreaded city by the bridge and shore. The night was finally over, and transitioned reluctantly into dawn. Although the ocean posed no serious threat during the night, Zoey couldn't help but think of the possibility of a vacation boat cruising on by with infected sailors, or a submarine chock full of zombies. Though the chances were unlikely, the thought entertained her. What an event that would be! She was tempted to knock on wood to avoid the occurrence, but ignored the superstitious belief. Knocking on wood had in no way aided her since the outbreak, and certainly didn't help her in the past. The action brought along a false sense of relief- something Zoey learned was unnecessary in times like these. She needed to be realistic and on her feet.

But what at all was realistic about seeing that sunny personality again (where did that thought come from, not even she knew)? Or shooting her non-broken pistol for the last time? Hell, sleeping in a cozy bed even seemed like a fantastic legend passed down from decades ago. The outbreak certainly hadn't lasted that long, but the relaxing past of watching zombie movies in her parents' basement felt as if it didn't happen at all.

"Zoey! Get ready, we're almost there," Louis yelled from the other side of the boat, "our supplies are over here, remember."

"I'll be over there in a sec Louis," Zoey responded. She looked at the pistol on her side and pondered how many infected she had killed with it. It was an eerie thought they were once like her- thinking and striving for their life. If karma existed, she wondered what kind of karma killing infected charged up. Negative, positive…

"Zoey get your ass over here!" Francis would yell that of course. She broke out of her over-thinking. It was thanks to him she was broken out of many inconvenient thought instances during horde strikes. Thank god for her teammates.

"We got another pistol over here for you," Louis called out.

"Get your ass over here Francis! We're going to hit shore on this side," Zoey grinned.

"Fine I'll bring your shit! Sheesh. Hey Louis, hold these for a sec…" Within seconds, Francis was looking out at the bridge and shore a few feet away from Zoey and mumbled, "I hate errands."

It wasn't long until Louis appeared beside Francis with an armful of weapons and ammo, "Shit Francis! I'm not your donkey."

Francis laughed and took an auto-shotgun and two pistols from Louis's full arms, "You're the one that fell for it dimwit. By the way, all the guns are fully loaded. You're welcome."

"Well, you did something useful for once didn't you Francis?"

Zoey walked over to Louis and grabbed a new pistol and assault rifle, "I'll miss my old gun."

The motorcyclist rolled his eyes as he strapped a first aid to his back, "We always replace our guns you crazy woman. Why's that specific shit so special?"

She shrugged and placed her pistols in holsters attached to her jeans, "It reminds me of the bridge."

Louis nodded, seeming to understand the girl, "A memento? Just like my tie. It reminds me of the good times… well, as great as work could have gotten at least."

"That could go the same for my gun, I guess," Zoey thought out-loud.

"Same with my vest. Hell yeah!"

Francis and Louis were prepared: one main gun, dual pistols strapped on, first aid, pills, and both had a pipe bomb.

Zoey had to admit, it was a strange feeling seeing Louis walking around on his leg like nothing had ever happened. Despite the man's constant reassurance that his leg was in ideal condition, she still had her suspicious he was in no way fully healed ready to take on hordes and kept a close eye on him. Legs were of utter importance in times such as these as they served many essential uses during apocalyptic times: running, fleeing, sprinting… She just had to take Louis's word that he could do all of the above.

A boatful of witches had torn and clawed at Louis's flesh, and if they ever saw a witch again (more like a bitch, she thought), Zoey would stand against anyone going near it. Once the group hit shore, they'd find their shit and run like hell (that was Francis's plan at least). They couldn't and wouldn't risk losing another one of their own.

And even though she wanted to get out of the infected place as soon as they had the chance, that strange gut feeling rose inside Zoey once again. The feeling was eating her curiosity alive- but what was she curious about? She had an extremely vague thought as to why the curiosity drew her back to the bridge and mainland, but ignored it. Such an idea was incredulous, especially since the only motivation behind the initial thought was simply one male in a hat, and the man constantly in the back of her mind wasn't Bill.

Speak of the devil… Bill's death place was drawing near, a mere three boat lengths away. The sun sailed higher up in sky, shooting rays of blinding light on the three survivor's bridge. Zoey mentally scoffed at the visual. How symbolic. Dawn usually symbolized a new beginning, or a sort of safe time. Yeah right. What could possibly be changed or at all be different from all those times of killing before? The same things were still on the mainland: the same hardships, the same infected, the same corpses, the same people. If anything, the approaching familiarity ahead rippled a wave of determination and fire to blaze through that hellish place. There was only one pleasant memory of the bridge, one that constantly reappeared in her head over and over. A memory considered enjoyable in this sort of time didn't seem realistic at all, but in the end, Zoey wondered if she was actually in denial about an occurrence that her filled with joy more so than the actual happening of the event, especially if said joy stemmed from a single man with a blue trucker hat. The brunette didn't think at all happiness could have been so easily achieved after losing one so dear to her.

Great, just great, Zoey thought sarcastically. She felt utter relief when she came to the realization she finally accepted Bill's death; now a whole new source of denial had come up, and it was one Francis had teased her about countless times. Why did these conflicting things always happen to he-

"Francis, what the hell are you doing?" Louis yelled.

"Taking some of your pills Louis, what does it look like I'm doing? Taking a shit?"

"I might need those Francis. Leg pains, witches, a boat with cans full of peaches? Your numbskull head remember all that?"

"Your leg's fine," Francis swatted at the air, as if shooing away the bald man's excuse, "and don't make me hungry Louis! I hate being hungry, except if I'm eating, or taking a shit."

"I don't even want to know what that last comment was supposed to mean Francis…"

Zoey laughed at the two men's commotion. It was about time for her to check if she was ready as well. On her she had equipped pistols, pills, first aid, and a Molotov. Her assault rifle was ready in hand, prepared for the approaching land.

The moaning of infected crept toward them slowly, a crowd of the monstrosities running up along the wall, waiting for the three survivors' return with great anticipation.

It was time.

"Ready boys?"

"Ready Zoey."

"Let's hurry so I don't get Spitter shit on my vest."

The boat's bow was within feet of the wall.

"I'll stop the boat. You guys start beating the shit out of them, just leave some for me!" Francis ran back to the other side of the boat, and as soon as the boat turned, Zoey and Louis jumped up onto the wall.

They ran for a good minute until the bridge was in full sight along with the mass of infected up ahead.

It had been far too long since their last encounter with them.

Zoey and Louis ran down into a paved area that overlooked the bridge and sea. If she recalled correctly, the other survivors drove through this area.

Well shit, thinking time was over.

Already a horde of infected sprinted towards the two. The duo raised their guns and began to shoot, not wasting a single bullet or sparing a second of time. Zoey had to clench her hands on the gun; it had been such a long time since she felt recoil of the metal object.

And damn that recoil felt good.

One infected scratched Louis's arm, shit, he was the one that couldn't get hurt again. Zoey quickly pushed it away with her rifle and shot off its head. She smirked at the small victory.

"Zoey, you hear that?"

Out of nowhere, a car alarm started to sound.

"…what the hell?" Louis looked around, "Where did that come from?"

"I didn't shoot it, I swear," Zoey glanced around the area too. There weren't any close cars for their bullets to set off, and in addition to that, the swarm of infected were running away from them.

"Nick! Was that you?" A deep voice thundered in the distance. It came from the car filled area Louis and she had run through.

"Hell no! It was Ellis."  
>"Nick sweetie, he's not even here right now," an oh-so sweet voice countered the slick one.<p>

"He did it anyway."

"Oh shit, watch out!"

Louis and Zoey looked at each other both knowing what the other was thinking. They trailed the running horde while shooting down and fighting off the aggressive infected. Five to the left, eight to the right, Zoey shot them among and reloaded. A slimy tongue began to wrap around her leg, and out of instinct fired where the tongue lead. At times like these, she forgot to think. Perhaps it was a necessity for battles almost all the time. After all, who had time to think in battle anymore? She broke the habit of long thought processes thanks to a certain vested grease monkey. Speaking of which…

"Hey! Wait for me!" Francis sprinted past the two into the middle of flocking infected.

"Francis!" Louis yelled. He and Zoey fired around the group of infected, careful not to hit the motorcyclist (or the now-nearby cars for that matter).

Almost instantly six infected were wiped out from Francis's shotgun blast. Six per bullet… alright, Zoey would let his stupidity go this time.

"Well hey, if it isn't the you folk! How ya'll doing?" Coach bellowed from across the crowd of infected. He powered up a chainsaw and tore through the fleshy wall.

"Tits!" Nick yelled as a Spitter shot acid at him, "Move move move!"

"I can move on my own you know," Rochelle pestered the conman as he pushed her.

"Well we can't risk anything," Replied the suited man. He gave Rochelle a smirk.

The crowd of infected thinned out quickly, and the two groups approached each other as soon as the clash was over. Coach and Louis greeted each other and shook hands, while Nick and Francis exchanged glares. The conman shot a look of jealousy when the motorcyclist started to talk with Rochelle. One thing was eating at Zoey… where was Ellis?

Shit.

No.

He couldn't be… dead, could he?

"…and we couldn't wake the boy up, he just kept sleeping. I swear, it feels like we're babysitting sometimes," Coach laughed. Zoey let out a sigh of relief. An assumption like that shouldn't have been made so fast.

Rochelle tapped Zoey on the shoulder and smiled, all while gently hugging the girl, "Nice to see you again. If you're wondering where Ellis is he's just in the safehouse. We decided to go scavenge for some supplies."

She smiled back and slowly broke the hug, "Thanks Rochelle," would it be too informal to call her Ro? "It would be terrible to lose a fellow survivor."

"Don't worry, I got your back," the woman winked, leaving Zoey in confusion with what that action was supposed to imply.

"So where'd you guys go? Last time we saw you, ya'll didn't want to get off that bridge," Coach questioned.

Francis spoke up before Zoey could even generate a though to reply with, "We went to look around, got tired of that damn bridge! But after that horde, we're gonna go rest up again."

Zoey shot a suspicious glance at Francis. The shit kind of excuse was that? She scanned the ocean right after looking for their boat. Francis must have sailed it into a safer spot, an out-of-sight spot at that. Had he known?

Rochelle grinned at the group, "Well we'll tag along. You wouldn't believe the day we've been having."

"I just might believe you cupcake," Francis replied.

Nick groaned when she began to walk next to Francis, but still stayed by her side nonetheless. The concern on his face was clear as day to Zoey.

She caught up with Louis who was talking to Coach, "Louis, don't we need to check something around town?"

"Don't worry, we'll check the bridge first," he turned to Coach, "You guys go restock and all that at the safehouse. Pretty sure we got some excess food on the bridge."

"Thanks Louis. We got to check and make sure Ellis didn't sleepwalk out. Don't know if he does, but that youngin' has pulled off some crazy shit," Coach thanked him, and ran off with Rochelle and Nick towards the bridge's safehouse. Zoey swore she saw a look of joy in the conman's eyes as soon as the group departed.

The trio continued to walk on the bridge across the sunlit water. Zoey didn't want to recall the last time she was actually on the lower half of the bridge.

She didn't want any of that shit happening again.

Before she realized it, they went up on the elevator and back to their post upon the upper half of the bridge. It never felt so good to be high above the dangerous ground below.

Francis looked at the streets underneath them while Louis sat down in the middle of the walkway. Zoey crossed her arms and leaned against the chilly metal rods behind her. The texture was much more beat up and bitter than the boat's railing. The bridge's metal triggered a bittersweet connotation. Shit happened, yeah, but there was a surviving memory that continued to float in her mind like a barrel in water.

And that memory's protagonist happened to be slumbering in the safehouse just down the bridge.

"So… what should we do now?" Louis broke the overwhelming silence. The heavy atmosphere tugged down on both the men's shoulders; it was obvious to Zoey.

"I don't want to be tellin' anything to them, really," Francis mumbled, "I just want to get our shit and get the hell out of here."

You'd tell Rochelle, Zoey thought.

"Shouldn't we help them too?" Louis was hesitant in standing up to tattooed man. Disagreeing at the moment and starting a commotion was something nobody wanted.

"We don't have enough food on the boat for them."

"There might be some on the island."

"Don't know that for sure."

"Will the food even last us another boat trip there?" Francis brought up a logical point for once, "You saw how much we rationed last time, and already half of that's gone. Think it'll last with four more people?"

"Damnit," Louis stressfully massaged his temples, "We can't just ditch them."

"Our reason's good enough. Not enough food, no ride. We could just tell them we need return to some town or some shit if we leave. Leave a note, and we're set."

Zoey decided to speak up; abandoning people wasn't her cup of tea, "There's no way we'll be able to find the boat supplies in a day."

Francis shot her a glare, "Didn't you say you knew where they were Zoey?"

Shit.

"No no no Francis, I can see what she's getting at," Louis sighed, "Even if we get the supplies knowing their location, we will need food. And that itself takes a long time to locate a sufficient amount of."

The bigger man grumbled, "Well shit."

"We still need a good enough reason to keep looking around town if you really insist on finding the boat suplies."

"What can we tell them?"

The trio thought to themselves for a good minute.

Louis brought up his excuse, "We could say we're looking for pills."

"No Louis!" Zoey and Francis snapped in unison. Medicine was a delicacy and even harder to find than food in these parts. Plus, they had enough on the boat.

Francis attempted his reason, "Okay, what about this. Zoey, you're a girl, right?"

Zoey nodded, "I'd hope so… why?"

"Well how about we say we're looking for tampons and all that shit. You can share them with Rochelle too."

Louis and Zoey blanky stared at each other, "We should trade him for Nick…I bet Nick at least wouldn't bring up something like tha-"

"Alright alright I'm sorry sheesh!"

It was Zoey's turn, "How about we just tell them we're looking for food? Honestly, we are. We could split it," she nodded her head in the direction of the building opposite of the safehouse, "I remember the boat supplies were in there. We can take the box and use it to store the food that way we still have the boat's stuff."

"Damnit fine, whatever…" Francis made a shooing motion at the brunette, "Go get the box."

Zoey nodded and ran to her right into the wooden building. The supply closet was right where she remembered and opened it.

Oh shit, she thought.

The closet was empty.

She stood there for a moment, almost shaking. Where the hell were the parts?

"Hurry your ass up Zoey! I know those arms have muscles."

She scurried right back confused.

"What's wrong Zoey?" Louis looked at the girl's expression and hung his mouth open, "Don't tell me…"

She nodded, "They weren't there."

The brunette didn't even want to look at Francis, but risked it. Almost in an instant the man buried his face in his hands cussing, "Where the fuck did they go? I hate thieves..."

"They have to be around here, we'll find them when looking for food," Zoey calmly assured him. Inside, however, she was extremely anxious.

"Okay, okay… we'll just look. And hope we find them. And if we don't, we'll hope the boat works. And if that doesn't work, I'm going to shoot the shit out of my foot. And if that doesn't work…"

Louis stood up and patted the motorcyclist's arm, "There, there. C'mon, let's go see what the others want to do. I can see them right now."

The trio looked over and saw three figures wait by where Zoey, Louis, and Francis had originally greeted them before the generator was filled with gas. They walked and jumped over the fence onto the level where the new survivors stood.

"Well, we're clean out of food," Francis mumbled. He was clearly still pissed off about the boat supplies; Zoey would've been too if she were him.

"Great, now we're all gonna starve to death," Nick sarcastically remarked.

Zoey ignored him, "We thought of this. Both our groups stick together and take turns scavenging the city," she pointed to the area they were in, "This area will be searched first. One group will be on the bridge, one will be on the ground. Like with what we did with you."

Rochelle nodded and smiled, "I like where this is going."

"What? Ah shit, don't tell me it's going to the sewers…" Nick moaned.

"If we don't find an abundant amount of food, we'll go over to the other side of the city," Zoey pointed in the general direction of where the jazz club and tattoo parlor was.

"I knew it, the goddamn sewers."  
>"Shut your trap Nick," Coach spat at the conman.<p>

"We'll need a lot of food," Zoey thought outloud, "Then we can discuss what we'll do after finding everything. That okay with you guys?"

Rochelle and Coach nodded in unison.

"Thank god. Rochelle, go get Ellis. That boy sleeps for way too long."

"Okay Coach!" Rochelle disappeared down the flight of stairs.

Louis looked at the group and smiled, "We'll decide who'll be stationed where when the boy gets here. Will we need to re-explain everything?"

Coach shook his had, "Nah, the kid picks up on things like this easily. Why, you shoulda seen him when we were in the mall…"

Zoey tuned in and out of the two men's conversation until the bigger man posed a question to Zoey, "So, whatchyu lookin' for?"

"Excuse me?" She didn't realize Coach posed the question to her.

"Y'know, what kind of food you excited for? Chocolate's where it's at for me."

"…peanut butter. Definitely peanut butter."

The bear sized man bellowed with laughter, "I like you girl!"

She grinned, and stared back at the stairwell wondering when Rochelle would get back.

Coach and Louis's laughter along with Francis's and Nick's tension slowly faded away as Zoey stood there talking to no one. She was more inclined on Rochelle getting back slowly getting tunnel vision. It had been a long time since she had a conversation with another woman.

As much as Zoey wanted to convince herself she was looking down the stairwell for that reason, it truly wasn't what she was waiting for, no. Zoey stared down at the stairwell thinking about a certain mechanic who was to soon be woken up. That gut feeling bubbled inside her again, akin to the one at sea and on shore.

Well shit, was that why she wanted to come back?

She smiled to herself, retracting her earlier statement how there was nothing left to provide her comfort since Bill died. Was it absolutely possible there was something, or more importantly, someone that could allow her to feel secure?

Zoey put aside the thought and began to ignore the possibility. No way could that ever happen.

But that gut feeling inside her told her otherwise.

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><p>Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it up to this point so far. Ellis's point-of-view next chapter! He'll finally get to interact with Zoey.<p>

Please leave a review! They make me happy when you're happy and all that.


	3. The Reunion

_**IMPORTANT NOTE FOR PREVIOUS READERS: **Pretend the old chapter 3 never happened! I'm so sorry about this! Please accept my apologies. I was discontent with how things were organized so I redid it a long time ago. Here's the official third chapter!_

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><p><em>Firsts: Chapter 3<em>

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><p>Zoey had taken the miniature elevator shaft down to the floor under the bridge. As usual, the lights were off inside the warehouse, which gave the place a creepy vibe. She loved eerie environments when her life was not in danger; this was something she had to take into consideration ever since the apocalypse started. There would be no more wandering in foggy alleyways or silent forests alone. The risk would be too much. Solitude was unbearable in this setting once she met the others.<p>

She thoroughly scavenged the warehouse for the boat supplies, but to her avail, there wasn't anything. Sighing, she exited the vacant building and leaned against the generator outside. Where the hell could they have gone? Is it possible the other survivors could have taken them? That was unlikely, she thought to herself. They would have no reason to take random gadgets.

The area was quiet, with the exception of the others' conversations coming from the bridge. Zoey looked up to see Louis and Francis talking. Louis and Coach looked rather disturbed while Francis was puffing his chest out, eyeing Rochelle every now and then to check if she was listening. He must have been talking about some gross bar stories again.

"That's no way to impress someone you've just met," Zoey mumbled.

Rochelle and Nick were on the bridge conversing with each other, away from the others. They seemed relaxed around each other. It reminded her of her and Louis' relationship, but something was different about them. Nick looked at Zoey, probably to checkup on her in case there was any straggling infected. As they made eye contact, Nick glanced back at Francis and rolled his eyes at her. She smiled apologetically and shrugged. Unfortunately, she had no control over how Francis behaved while she was out of range.

She looked around the area. This place was vacant, which was surprising compared to past situations. When they arrived at the port, it was swarming with infected. Hordes were in masses everywhere, the mutated humans seemed to be more abundant, and Tanks were especially prominent in this area for some reason. She only knew this because of Bill.

Reluctantly, Zoey walked to the dimly lit room beneath the bridge. She swore she'd never come here, but that was a lie. A thought occurred to her that perhaps she had been running, but passed it off as merely "respecting Bill."

His body was still sitting against the machinery; it even still held the M-16 he preferred over many weapons. The day he died seemed so long ago. She swore she could still hear the generator working and flashbacks of all the infected swarming towards this small room came in masses to her.

"You went out fighting like you always did," Zoey mumbled.

"Zo?" Startled by the sudden voice –she couldn't believe she was _that _off guard - she pivoted to the side tightening her grasp on her gun.

It was Ellis.

"Ellis?" Zoey was still soaking in reality. Her tendency of being caught up in racing thoughts still existed. She often thought the way her mind ticked was cumbersome.

"That's my name alright! W-well, I think it is…" He stopped abruptly and shifted his focus down to his shoes. She felt like he had more to say, but maybe she was wrong. It didn't matter.

"Good to see you," she chuckled with a fond smile. His eyes perked up and he grinned.

"So uh, what're you doing down here? You scared me for a moment just standing there and all." She quietly glanced down at the corpse. Ellis gulped. "Oh. I um, I didn't mean to- I'm sorry about him. Louis told me."

"Yeah," Zoey softly confirmed. "We'd be dead if it weren't for his sacrifice though."

"It must be hard." Ellis nodded towards the elevator shaft. "The others are waiting upstairs. Let's go, alright?"

"Sure."

The two went to the elevator shaft.

"So how have you been?" Ellis asked.

"Better off than you guys from what I've heard from Coach." Zoey was still unsure how much Francis and Louis wanted to reveal about the island situation. It would be best not to get drawn into specifics. If she sounded cold now, she'd be able to iron things out later. She just visited Bill, so her attitude could be derived from him, which it partially was.

"Ah yeah," he started. "I'm just happy we're all alright. They were all moping a while ago. Seems like everyone is getting along though."

"Seems like it. Everyone seems to be in better spirits now too. At least you're alive, and you have your hat." With a small smile, she motioned to it with the muzzle of her gun.

Before the others called out to them, he grinned from ear to ear and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah!"

Coach and Louis waved at them with a grumpy looking Francis off to the side. Rochelle and Nick were near him too, but looked a lot happier than him. He must not have been happy with Rochelle and Nick growing closer, Zoey thought. That's what he gets for making that skins joke to her.

The elevator came to the top level and Zoey jumped out before Ellis. She grinned and remarked, "Race you there!"

The two ran towards their groups of people. They both reached them simultaneously, so there was no winner. Everyone was fluidly talking with one another and Zoey couldn't help but enjoy this uplifting atmosphere. She wondered where it had gone this whole time.

Ellis lightly tapped her shoulder and pointed to Nick. He leaned his head close to whisper. "You see that green shit on his suit? I bet that ain't spitter goo. Probably boogers."

Zoey covered her laughter with her hand, restricting her amusement for only her and Ellis to see. They exchanged small jokes and stories regarding different situations their group encountered. She hadn't felt this light in a long time.

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><p><em>That's right guys I'm alive. Thanks for reading! Does anyone still read this? Leave a review if you do! This chapter may be short, but it's just to get back into the swing of things. More to come!<em>

_-tofu_


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